


just like a dream

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Keith is awkward, M/M, also i don't know how to write keith's voice, sort of i guess, this has no real genre, warning for masturbation, which is also awkward haha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8938186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Keith doesn’t mean to spy on Lance, it just…happens. It’s not his fault that Lance doesn’t close his door all the way, anyways. 
(Or, two times Keith accidentally spied on Lance, for better or for worse)





	

**Author's Note:**

> see end notes for warnings

Keith doesn’t mean to spy on Lance, it just…happens. It’s not his fault that Lance doesn’t close his door all the way, anyways.

The first time it happens, it’s…survivable. He’s stalking back to his room after a late-night sparring session, standard fare, when he hears someone’s ragged breathing. Not his own.

He tenses, listening more closely, and realizes that the sound is someone crying. He doesn’t know what to do with this knowledge, so he inches forward. To his alarm, the sound is becoming clearer.

Keith isn’t an idiot; he’s fully aware of how unequipped he is to deal with other people’s emotions. (His social aptitude could use some work, he’s been told.) This is why he’s terrified that if he turns the corner to his hall, he’ll be confronted with the person producing the stifled sobs, and he’ll have no idea how to make them (the sobs) stop.

It’s not like he has a choice, though—he’s sweaty and his muscles are aching and he’s in no mood to retreat and spar another round. No way out but forward, right? He regretfully turns the corner.

He’s met with darkness: nobody else appears to be awake. He pads quietly forth, one hand blindly ahead of him as his eyes slowly adjust to the black. The sobbing has quieted, too, but the uneven breathing is still loud enough for him to hear. He stops at what he thinks is his room, feeling for the doorknob. He accidentally presses with his fingers, and the door gives—it hadn’t been fully shut. The person whose breathing he’s been creepily listening to hitches, and then he doesn’t hear anything except his own exhale.

When he breathes in, he realizes it’s not his own room. It doesn’t smell the same at all—not that it stinks or anything, he thinks hastily. As he stands there, he recognizes that it just smells…familiar. Kind of nice. Warm.

With an awkward start, he realizes he’s let himself into Lance’s room, and the person crying must be Lance. He can even make out the faint form of Lance hurriedly wiping tears awat from his face.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hisses, fumbling to let himself out and slamming the door shut behind him. “Sorry, Lance,” he adds in a loud whisper, eyes shut and brows scrunched. He feels like a total tool, and Lance must think he _is_ one, now, too.

He manages to find his own quarters and flips on the light manically to confirm that it’s his the second he’s inside. After stripping down to boxers and his undershirt, he sits on his bed for the better part of an hour, contemplating whether he should go back and actually talk to Lance. See if he’s okay, and stuff. Eventually he gives up on working up the nerve.

Considering he’s the paladin of the Red Lion, Keith thinks irritably as he draws his sheets around himself, he’s not very bold.

They don’t talk about it in the morning, but Lance won’t meet his eye until they have another near-death team experience that forces all team dynamics back into normalcy.

*

The second time it happens, it’s…worse.

It’s more or less the same situation, with the breathing and Keith being a creep who listens to it as he finds his way back to his own room, but once Keith’s picked up on it, he becomes fixated on not failing like he did last time.

It sounds a little different, but not different enough for Keith to register a contextual dissimilarity.

He’s ruffling his hair with a towel, trying to wring out some of the sweat that’s making it curl around the nape of his neck, when he first catches it.

Breathy panting, stifled like Lance doesn’t want to be heard. Just like last time.

Keith inches forward, face hot thanks to nerves. He’s being stupid, he knows, but something about seeing Lance vulnerable is—a little scary. Sure they’re teammates, and Keith isn’t ashamed to admit that he has some grudging respect for Lance, but seeing him in pain that goes beyond the physical is… not something Keith’s confident he’s equipped for.

But that doesn’t matter. If Lance is hurting and nobody else is seeing it, then it’s Keith’s job to reach out. That’s what teammates are for. It’s what _friends_ are for.

So he moves stealthily to Lance’s door, which is once again slightly ajar, and flips on the light as he opens it.

What he finds is… not Lance crying.

Lance is on his bed, head back, with his legs spread and his cock in a loose fist. He’s stroking himself, letting out soft gasps as he does so, eyes tightly closed.

Keith stares, baffled, for a split second longer than he intends to before flipping the light back off and yanking the door shut. He realizes belatedly that Lance must not have noticed him entering, though he would certainly know now that someone had walked in on him, because Keith had just slammed the door once again. Idiot!

Keith’s face felt like it was on fire, he was so hot. He dashed back to his room, thoughts going in ten directions at once, heart racing faster than it had in the spar.

Obviously, he hadn’t intended to watch Lance jerk off. But now that he’d seen it… he felt his own cock twitch, the image sending blood to his crotch. Guiltily, he palmed his dick through the fabric of his pants.

He’s angry at himself, both for screwing up so epically in general and for doing the wrong thing for Lance twice. First, when Lance had needed someone, he’d bailed. Then, when Lance had needed some goddamn privacy, Keith had let himself in.

Keith kicks off his pants and falls back onto his bed, scowling and half-hard.

He’s angry at himself for a third reason. Despite all of this, his mind keeps straying to how hot Lance had looked, jerking himself off. The lean muscles of his thighs exposed, his pretty cock heavy in hand, leaking on his toned stomach. He’d only seen a few seconds, but it was enough of a vision for Keith to be in lust with Lance for an eternity.

It doesn’t exactly help that Keith was already beginning to develop non-sexual feelings for Lance.

Of course, there’s still their huge rivalry—if one could even call it that, Keith thinks smugly as he drags his thumb over the head of his cock. But Lance is genuine, a warrior at heart, and has shown unexpected compassion. Keith’s begun to grow almost _fond_ of him.

Objectively, Lance is attractive. Tall and lean, with naturally tan skin and soft hair (albeit in an unfortunate style)—Keith has eyes, alright?

It’s just, he was only beginning to appreciate the friendship that he and Lance were beginning to hone. And he was only sort of familiarizing himself with the obligations that come with friendship (like, for example, checking up on a bro when said bro is crying). Now he’s in completely new territory. He’s just been smacked in the face with how hot his rival/friend/teammate is, the knowledge of what the guy’s dick looks like, and the problem of how to proceed in any capacity with him given that he has both a.) seen him jerk off and b.) seen him cry, both times with neither intent nor consent! Fuck!

He jerks off hastily, squeezing his dick lightly as he thrusts once, twice more into his fist and gasps as he comes. He feels filthy, after, and not just from the come on his abs.

*

Lance isn’t up for breakfast, and Keith doesn’t see him around at all until a little before lunchtime. He’s sparring in the simulator alone (as he does in pretty much all of his downtime) when the simulation powers down.

“What the hell?” he mutters, the tip of his blade clanking against the ground as he drops his arm and frowns.

“My bad, did I interrupt you?” comes a voice.

Keith recognizes it, but he turns to look anyways. “Lance.” He knows he should follow this up with something—anything, but last night is still painted graphically in his head and so he stays silent.

“Dude, I know you fucking creeped on me,” Lance says bluntly.

“What?” The word comes out a little garbled, but Keith thinks it was a valiant effort.

“Last night. And, obviously, the other night. I don’t know why you’re spying on me, if you’ve picked up on my feelings or whatever, but like. It’s still weird.”

“Your—what?” Keith says again, this time genuine in tone and intent. He shakes his head. “Wait, hang on. _Spying_ is a strong word.” He stops. Lance looks at him, expectant. His cheeks are a little red; it’s cute. Keith continues uncertainly, “I mean, I guess it’s true, but I wasn’t trying to spy on you. The first time, I genuinely thought I was going into my room until I realized you were there. And, uh, the second time…” he trails off. How the hell can he explain that one?

Lance quirks one eyebrow, waiting. “You think it’s cool to watch people jerk off without their permission?” he prompts, lifting his chin.

“What?—no!” Keith flushes, alarmed and insulted. “Obviously that’s not cool. I thought that last night was like the time before, when you were… upset, and I didn’t do anything, which was… really shitty of me.” He pauses again, looking at Lance. “I didn’t mean to be a creep, I swear.”

Lance has both eyebrows raised now, and he’s grinning. “You’re fucking unreal,” he says, laughter in his tone. “You barged in on me jerking it because you thought I was crying. You saw my dick because you wanted to be a good friend. This is—what even _are_ you?” He really is laughing now.

Keith frowns, wanting to come to his own defense, but he knows he’s powerless. Instead, he changes the topic to the other part of Lance’s words that had made him say _what?_ , the part about feelings.

“You said something that I don’t understand, before,” he says once Lance has finally stopped laughing at his expense to, Keith assumes, breathe again.

Lance looks at him, all traces of laughter gone. He looks guarded.

Keith continues, meeting Lance’s eyes, “about your feelings.” He doesn’t say anything else, watching Lance.

Lance frowns. “I was hoping you’d… let that go,” he says by way of explanation, scratching the back of his neck as he drops his gaze away. “I just… last night after the door slammed, I wondered if you shut it because you’d heard me, uh, saying your name. Or something. And you wanted to send a message. But I thought about the other time, and it didn’t seem like that was what was going on. Which is why I’m here. But yeah…” he trails off. “In case it’s not glaringly obvious, I’m…” he looks up, face unreadable. “I’m into you, in a lot of ways.”

Keith isn’t sure what to say to that. He can’t say that he feels the same, because that wouldn’t be true, but at the same time… he’s not completely uninterested, either. There’s silence, and Lance moves as if to leave. Before he can, though, Keith stops him: “Wait!” he says. Lance turns back to look at him, eyes searching Keith’s face for an explanation. Keith breaks eye contact first, letting his Bayard snap back into its non-combat form.

Gathering his words, he begins, “I wish I could say I’m head over heels into you.” Lance looks stung, but doesn’t try to leave. “I’m not… yet. But, last night I—I jerked off to the image in my mind of you on your bed, and before that I was really starting to like being your teammate, and… basically, what I’m trying to say is, I think all of my feelings are leading up to me being really into you.”

Keith looks up again, meeting Lance’s eyes. For good measure, he clarifies, “I’m not there yet, but I think I’m about to be into you in a lot of ways.”

Lance’s answering smile is what gets Keith there.

**Author's Note:**

> this has some voyeuristic components and lance didn't consent to being watched jerking off, but at the same time keith didn't intend to do any watching, so.... yeah. this isn't beta read, i'm barely in this fandom and have a VERY loose grasp of the castle so, like, factually this is way wrong probably. this also is not High Quality writing lbr. thank you if you read it anyways!! much love to you all. i dont own anything and title creds to madonna


End file.
